What Friends Are For
by Cissa DeLancome
Summary: Clyde doesn't know why his friend has been acting unusually lately. Maybe Craig can clear it up for him. CraigxClyde - oneshot - SLASH


**Title:** What Friends Are For  
**Author:** Natalie  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** South Park belongs to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, maybe Comedy Central, too. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Summary: **Clyde doesn't know why his friend has been acting unusually lately. Maybe Craig can clear it up for him.  
_No. This wasn't real. He had to be dreaming. He let a few seconds go by, not moving, waiting for his vision to go fuzzy and the dream to fade away, like it usually did. Only it didn't. _  
**Notes:** w00t! Craig and Clyde! Sorry for the obscureness of this pairing, but hey, that's how I roll. I don't even know how this happened, it was only supposed to be a drabble when I started out. shrug. I don't really know where to go for a beta for this story; I only recently got into cough South Park slash. XD  
This is for **soulflowerLAINS** even if I don't really know her, because she's the only other person I know of that likes Craig/Clyde as much as I do.

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_What Friends Are For_

It was Thursday afternoon, just after P.E., but Clyde and Craig always stayed late to put away whatever equipment was used that day. It was punishment for one day getting a bunch of kids to throw their dodge balls right _next _to Butters, as a joke, just to freak him out.

The sensitive boy had shrieked and dissolved in tears after the fright, and the gym teacher blew the whistle and (along with most of the girls) rushed over to him immediately to see if he was alright. Craig had laughed and called him a pussy, which Cartman echoed, but the teacher didn't seem to have heard the latter and rounded on Craig. When Clyde tried to voice this, the teacher blew her infernal whistle again and told him and Craig that they had just earned themselves clean-up duty for the rest of the year. Which really wasn't that bad, if you thought about it, since it was already April.

So here they were, as usual, the last ones to leave. Except, Clyde thought, something was different the past few days. Ever since Red broke up with Craig, maybe even a little before that, his friend had been acting strangely. Instead of shooting off his foul-mouth every few minutes like usual, he spoke less, and did great deal of watching and listening to other people.

Even right now, it was weird. Usually they horsed around with the equipment for a bit before putting it away, but today he was silent. Just now, actually, a few times while they were folding the nets and wheeling the heavy volleyball posts into the corner of the large, empty gym, Clyde noticed Craig watching him intently, seemingly studying him. Each time Clyde looked away, feeling awkward. The thought of all Craig's attention on him made him nervous.

Finally they went to change back into their normal clothes. Clyde had barely finished pulling his clean tee-shirt over his head when Craig attacked him.

"Craig! What--!" Clyde gasped, as his best friend pushed him against the wall of the empty boys' locker room.

Craig ignored him, but instead of punching him, or something to that effect (which Clyde had expected, considering the force with which Craig had shoved him) his friend slid one of his hands down his chest, slipping it just under the bottom of his shirt to grip his hip.

Clyde's eyes widened at the intimate touch, but Craig didn't look at him, just leaned in close and nuzzled his cheek, his hot breath tickling Clyde's ear. Clyde felt himself become dizzy, blinking a few times as he realized what was going on.

"C-come on, Craig. Stop this," he said shakily, his hands pressing against his friend's chest, trying to push him off. "You—you're just upset that you and Red broke up, you don't wanna do this," he tried.

Craig's hand just slid higher up his torso, crawling up his ribcage and back up to his chest, stroking. His fingers found one of his nipples and brushed against it, and Clyde quivered and shut his eyes at the sensation.

This was not happening.

Craig was _not_ trying to feel him up in the boys' locker room, and Clyde most certainly was not letting him.

When Clyde opened his eyes he would have gasped, only his breath hitched, stopping completely. Craig's face was mere centimeters away from his, and the raven-haired boy was looking at him through very dark, half-lidded yet predatory eyes. Clyde was at a loss, he'd never seen an expression like that on his friend's face before. When Craig spoke his voice came out low and level.

"Oh, but I do, Clyde." He smirked that Craig-smirk of his, and licked his lips, before leaning in to the side of Clyde's face again.

Clyde jerked when he felt a tongue flick against the lobe of his ear. He tried again to push Craig away with his shoulder, internally panicking as he felt a familiar tingle in his stomach head straight downwards. Craig brushed his lips against the sensitive skin just under Clyde's ear, at the top of his neck. Clyde was aware of his breathing becoming quick, erratic, and the reaction his body was having—mainly _down there_—at the unexpected attention he was getting from his friend.

This was—_really_—not happening.

Silently and violently cursing his stupid teenage hormones, he tried shoving Craig off him again with his fists, but Craig was quicker. He surprised Clyde by grabbing both his wrists, pinning them against the wall and gripping tight before the brunet even had a chance to react.

Clyde's mouth dropped open; he was gaping in disbelief as the other boy looked hazily at him, breath hot and heavy. He could feel it blowing against his lips.

"I want it, Clyde," Craig said, voice husky as ever. Clyde saw a hint of the smirk playing on his lips, but this time there was a dangerous glint in his lust-filled eyes.

Suddenly Craig pressed his thigh between Clyde's legs, _hard_, indicating that he knew exactly what was going on underneath Clyde's pants. He nudged his leg again against his friend's crotch and Clyde couldn't help but gasp, biting his lower lip to hold back a moan at the contact. Clyde's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Craig almost fearfully. His hands were still pinned tightly on either side of him, his breathing was labored, and Craig's leg was rubbing against his dick through the thick layers of their jeans—which, inexplicably, only helped in creating more friction.

Craig pressed his body even closer to Clyde, revealing his minute height advantage over the other boy, and leaned his forehead carefully against Clyde's. They were too close to actually see each other properly, but Clyde could tell that Craig's eyes were unfocused. So were his own; he was too engaged in his other senses to bother with sight.

"I know you want it too, Clyde," Craig whispered thickly, "And have, for a long time."

Clyde froze, becoming, if possible, even more tense. Craig couldn't possibly—

No. This wasn't real. He had to be dreaming. He let a few seconds go by, not moving, waiting for his vision to go fuzzy and the dream to fade away, like it usually did. Only it didn't.

Clyde decided that the bulge in his pants felt much too real—if that was anything compared to the hardness he felt against his own leg.

Craig loosened his grip on Clyde's wrists and slid his hands down the other boy's arms in one fluid movement, choosing instead to rest them gingerly on Clyde's shoulders. One of his thumbs caressed Clyde's collarbone softly in a soothing motion, but all it really did was make the prickling in his stomach increase tenfold.

"Don't pretend like it isn't totally obvious," Craig finally said with a little derision in his voice, and Clyde felt his face heat up even more.

But Craig was smiling, and Clyde just pouted, with what he was sure was a deep, incredibly girly blush burning across his cheeks.

"S'not true," Clyde muttered, unable to meet Craig's gaze.

He didn't see the raven-haired boy grin hawkishly, before Craig stated, more than asked, "Oh so you want to play dirty, do you?"

Clyde looked up at Craig, confused, just as Craig grabbed his arms again forcefully, shifting so that their bodies were completely aligned. Clyde made a noise of protest, but the next thing he knew Craig was grinding his hips against his own, rubbing their groins together obscenely.

Clyde gasped again—he was incredibly, embarrassingly hard; he had to struggle to stop himself from bucking against the other boy. He arched his back involuntarily and leaned his head back against the cold wall, squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lower lip to keep from hissing in perverse pleasure. Oh god, if Craig kept this up he was sure he was going to come right then and there. He couldn't believe this was happening, and with Craig—that Craig initiated this. Clyde's head swam; he was going to pass out, he just knew it.

Finally, thankfully, the grinding slowed, and Clyde opened his mouth slightly, panting a little, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel beads of moisture on his scorching neck.

When he opened his eyes to look weakly at Craig, he noticed the other teen had leaned back a little and was staring down at him, his jaw slack, lips glistening, his dark brown eyes positively glittering with unconcealed want. Clyde even noticed a faint red tinge on his cheeks, and Craig _never_ blushed. He had no idea he could have such an effect on the other boy.

"God, Clyde," Craig breathed slowly, moving his hands delicately to Clyde's shoulders again, this time sliding them up his neck, burying the tips of his fingers into Clyde's thick brown hair. Clyde couldn't help but shiver at the touch, but Craig's fingers were anything but cold.

"But," Clyde started, finding his voice for the first time in minutes, unnerved to find that he sounded unnaturally breathless. "Red—"

Craig cut him off with a sharp, amused but not unkind scoffing sound. "Who gives a _fuck_ about Red? I didn't even like her." His mouth twisted into an expression of distaste and he looked away briefly, before seeming to disregard the thought, as he looked down at Clyde again warmly, a soft, rare smile gracing his lips.

"I want," Craig started, pausing to rub his thumb thoughtfully against Clyde's cheek, "…you."

Clyde hadn't realized he had been holding his breath, and he exhaled loudly as he processed Craig's insane statement, the strange swelling sensation in his chest becoming too much for him—although it was a completely different kind of swelling than what was happening _down there_. It was as if feelings Clyde hadn't known he was bottling up had finally become too pressurized, forcing the figurative cap off with a pop and escaping, washing all the way down his body, and back up to the tips of his faintly trembling fingers, which were now hanging limply at his sides.

Before he knew it Craig was leaning in slowly and deliberately, their eyes locking before Clyde's gaze dropped to his friend's mouth, to his soft, perfect pink lips. He looked quickly back up to see Craig's eyes closing, getting closer still. Clyde looked down at those lips again until they were too close to see, felt his eyelids seem to reflexively become heavy as he waited, and...

It wasn't like he had imagined, so many times.

But hell if he would ever admit that out loud to Craig, who was already cocky enough as it was. The kiss, instead of being rough and demanding, like Craig usually was, was tender, and sweet, nothing but the soft brushing of lips at first.

Clyde hesitantly placed his hands on Craig's chest. He could feel his heartbeat. It was almost as fast as his own.

Almost.

Craig seemed to take his coy action as a sign to continue, and he moved one of his hands to Clyde's jaw line, cupping his face. He slid his fingers down to gently push Clyde's chin upwards a little, deepening the kiss.

Clyde's head felt like it was spinning again; he clutched the fabric of Craig's sweater tightly, fighting to regain steadiness. He thought he was going to faint when he felt Craig's lips part, and his hot tongue slide against his bottom lip seductively.

That was when the kiss turned into to what Clyde had secretly dreamt it would be. His lips parted, and Craig immediately engaged him in a primitive fight for dominance. Clyde fought back for the most part, pressing his lips against Craig's just as hard, and spread his fingers against Craig's firm chest, adding enough pressure to show just a hint of resistance.

Craig noticed this and moved the hand that was cupping Clyde's chin to the back of his head, cradling it. He wrapped his other arm around Clyde's waist, before nearly lifting Clyde off the wall as he pulled him against him, pressing their bodies together with urgency.

Craig finally slipped his tongue into Clyde's mouth, tongue scraping painlessly against the bottom of Clyde's yearbook-smile-straight teeth as he delved around. It didn't take him long to coax a response out of Clyde, and soon their tongues were gently wrestling, flicking against each other in some sort of erotic dance. Craig moved expertly, and Clyde vaguely wondered how often Craig frenched other guys in order be so good at it.

Then Clyde remembered he had a total boner. He moaned softly, almost imperceptibly except for the vibrations it created in their mouths. Craig only pressed his face closer, kissed him harder, and Clyde submitted. Suddenly it was too much, the hands in his hair, under his shirt, the feeling of Craig tasting him, dominating the kiss—dominating _him_, Clyde couldn't take it. He was aching, he wanted, _needed _to just, ohmygod, touch—

He hooked his arms quickly around Craig's neck for leverage, keeping their lips locked, and pushed his hips up, desperately pressing their groins together once more. God, it was so wrong but it felt so _good_. Craig gasped at the sudden contact, breaking the kiss, but he quickly reciprocated, moving both his hands to Clyde's hips and grinding against him once more, and hard. Craig was panting, loudly, and Clyde could hear him grunt in pained pleasure over his own quiet whimpering every time their erections would directly rub together in their needy, hopelessly irregular rhythm.

Clyde let out a soft, incoherent cry as gave a final thrust before he felt his muscles clench up. He threw his head back as his arousal reached its peak, and soon all he could see was white as he experienced the blissful waves of orgasm course through him. He knew Craig came almost immediately after, because he heard him yell in a strangled voice, "O-oh god, ungh, _fuck_!" He felt Craig's hold on him tighten for a good moment, before the other boy all but collapsed onto him, his forehead falling onto Clyde's shoulder, resting there for a few minutes before his deep, heavy breathing began to even out.

Clyde slumped back against the wall. He was slightly dazed. He could not believe he had just dry-fucked his best friend in the gym lockers after school. Like it was the most ordinary fucking thing in the world. Jesus Christ. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, wondering if he had just made the biggest mistake ever. After all, Craig was impulsive. Who's to say he wouldn't turn and beat the crap out of him, then never speak to him again after he left Clyde's mutilated body for dead on the floor?

Finally Craig lifted his head off Clyde's shoulder and looked at him, a somewhat surprised, but very satisfied expression on his face, bringing Clyde back down to reality. Craig smiled before reaching up to touch Clyde's cheek again, and planted a small, gentle kiss on Clyde's lips.

When he pulled back Clyde visibly cringed. "Dude," he mumbled, opening his eyes to peer up at Craig. "So. Gay."

Craig laughed breathlessly, before punching him lightly on the arm. "Dude! You're gay! You're the fuckin' fag who couldn't stop drooling every time me and Red would go at it." He grinned, lifting his chin in challenge.

Clyde rolled his eyes, although he did feel himself blush a little. "Um, Craig, _you_ started this. You're the fag."

But it was true. He _had_ had a few 'more-than-just-friendship' type feelings for Craig lately, ever since he had started going out with Red, and Clyde had started to feel a little, well, _jealous._ He never thought anything would come of it. Sure, he'd dreamt about it—what it would feel like to have Craig's arms around him, to be the one Craig whispered tantalizingly to.

But he never would have confronted Craig about anything like that, of course. First, because he didn't want to have the shit beat out of him, and second, because… he wouldn't be able to deal with Craig hating him over some extremely messed up faze he was going through.

But now everything was different. Had… had Craig admitted to, possibly, maybe, liking him? Or had he just imagined that part? It was hard to tell.

But Craig was still there, grinning at him like a teenage boy who just lost his virginity to the prom queen. And still touching him. Clyde's heart swelled at the thought, but he just as soon wrinkled his nose at how much of a girl he was being.

"Damn right I did," Craig retorted proudly. "'Cause you're too much of a fag to even do anything about the fact that you want me, _bad_." He was using his cocky, asshole voice again. But somehow, instead of feeling annoyed, Clyde relaxed. It was familiar, something he was used to. …Unlike the voice he had used earlier, just for a moment, gentle and seemingly ridden with feeling Clyde hadn't even known his crude friend was capable of.

It scared him a little. But in a good way, that made his stomach clench up and that made him think, hope, that maybe Craig liked him a little more than he let on.

He realized Craig was still talking and waving his hands animatedly. "…you're the faggiest fag that ever walked South Park, Clyde. Now move."

He pushed Clyde to the side so he could bend down and get his gym bag. Clyde scoffed, but he couldn't suppress the small smile of relief tugging at his lips. Everything was normal; Craig was swearing, and he was still alive. Craig straightened and handed him his own bag, noticing his expression, and for a second—although Clyde could have been imagining it—he thought he saw Craig's eyes soften again. And Craig smiled back at him affectionately, like he had just a few minutes ago.

"See?" Craig said softly. "You're not even denying it. Silly fag." But there was no mistaking the genuine care in his voice, even if it didn't translate to his words.

Clyde's heart soared. He hadn't even been expecting that.

"Now come on," Craig said louder, switching gears. He hooked an arm around Clyde's shoulder, leading him out of the locker room. "Let's go to my house and watch Red Racer."

Clyde looked at him incredulously, but walked with him anyway. "Are you serious? After all that, you just wanna go sit on your couch and watch TV?"

Craig shrugged. "My parents are out of town," he said breezily, looking at him slyly from the corner of his eye.

Just then Clyde felt Craig's index and middle fingers dip into the neck of his shirt, stroking his collarbone lightly.

Clyde swallowed, the small but nonetheless thrilling gesture already sending sparks down his limbs, and causing his face and neck to heat again. Maybe it was just because it was Craig who did it.

"O-okay," Clyde replied. After all, what else did he have to do besides innocently distract Craig from his favorite TV show while his parents were away? That _was_ what friends were for, right?

Craig smiled, satisfied. "That's a good Clyde."

_-fin-_

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A/N: Review? Pretty please? :)


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